


Right Where You Are, That's Where I Am

by runicmagitek



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Bonding, F/M, Fluff, Loyalty, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 05:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17760446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: They both have their roles to play in the world. It might keep them apart, but it will never make them forget one another. And when they are together, even the silence is comforting.





	Right Where You Are, That's Where I Am

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveandthetruth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandthetruth/gifts).



Of all the variables riddled in the royal life, Ashe prized the constancies. It was in the rising and setting sun blazing across Dalmasca, the stability with the established era of peace, and the knowledge that it would be chaos and ruin if not for her intervention. Ashe reminded herself of such when her tasks plucked her nerves. Between trade treaties and urban development evaluations, she inhaled and recalled a time when she rose each morning paralyzed thinking that day was her last. Or if not hers, then an ally’s. Such fear evaporated, but the memories lingered.

She hadn’t been alone in her endeavors. While she and the others pursued conflicting paths in life, there was a time when they walked as one. Ashe missed those days. Not the peril, but the company of different, yet like-minded individuals. She missed traveling without fretting the path to their destination. She missed foreign lands and newfound sights. A queen was not destined for wanderlust, though; her place was at the throne of Dalmasca, where her people needed Queen Ashelia.

The coronation passed without a hiccup, unless the return of her beloved ring from a certain sky pirate counted as such. She smiled at the band on her delicate finger; knowing Balthier and Fran were alive—somewhere—warmed her heart more so than regaining the piece of jewelry. While she never spoke with them again, word of Vaan and Penelo reached her from none other than Larsa Solidor. The latter maintained correspondence with them and recounted the letters to Ashe in his visits. Something to cut the dry topics of their budding alliance and other pressing matters. Ashe anticipated those tangents.

Just as much as she anticipated _him_.

He accompanied Larsa to Dalmasca, forever maintaining a silent vigil over his ward. No one questioned the Judge Magister, his presence both a warning and odd comfort. Even Ashe stilled her tongue—both then and now. After severing ties from the Occuria, who was she to demand how people lived their lives?

Of all the individuals she crossed paths with since her coronation, Basch wasn’t a face she expected to see ever again, let alone frequently. Even if all she glimpsed was the metal mask, she knew who stood behind it.

She smiled at Basch before addressing Larsa with each visit to the palace. As queen, diplomatic matters required her attention, but as Ashe, she longed to converse with Basch. How was he? Was he happy with the role he eased into? Perhaps Larsa could indulge her, but she longed for those quiet conversations she once shared with Basch in their rare reprieves.

It started with silence. She hated the man who slew her father. When the truth cleared her unwavering doubts, she recalled how he too never flinched when she struck and berated him. To associate with the King-Slayer was no better than the chamber she resided in. Oh, how wrong she was. And instead of fighting her, he quietly accepted her wrath, for she deserved to unleash her storm in a world that dared to forget her.

Still he followed her. Something about loyalty. She was the rightful queen and he was but a tool at her disposal. Ashe scoffed at the idea, only to furrow her brow when she realized Basch never doubted her agency since finding her. What exactly they discussed when she dared to speak to him without poison on her tongue, she couldn’t remember, but the anxiety vanished and she breathed easy in those moments. That she never forgot.

And yet with each of his visits to Dalmasca, Ashe swore her heart skipped a beat whenever metal greaves echoed in the main entrance. She twitched fingers along her sides before approaching them as a myriad scenarios played in her head. What would she say to Basch if time allowed it? What words existed to express how she missed their brief companionship?

Alas, their duties separated them. She was the Queen and he was a Judge. The stars did not align for them to bask in idle chitchat. Not that either of them favored hollow conversations. Ashe still yearned for enough borrowed time to even reminisce with him.

She found him once by a balcony nestled in an alcove before he and Larsa departed for Archades. Enough room for two, though barely accommodated a man in full armor. The high vantage point overlooked Dalmasca. The sun crept over the horizon and basked the sleepy streets with a warm hue. Birds sang from above while merchants rose to assemble their stands in the distance. And Basch stood there, back to Ashe and eyes set to the magnificent sight. No different from when she rose at twilight and found Basch sitting away from the camp to witness sunrise. Maybe insomnia chewed his mind or habit dictated his sleep schedule. Ashe never asked. It didn’t matter. Not when she valued the company.

When he eventually turned to vacate the balcony, he paused before Ashe. She smoothed her hands over one another and resisted the urge to chew her lip. If only that blasted mask didn’t block his features. Not that Basch was ever an easy man to read, but to see him— _him_ —was a pleasure Ashe didn’t realize until it slipped through her fingers.

Basch brought a loose fist to his chest and bowed. “Your Majesty.”

Ashe held her breath. She almost forgot the sound of his voice—a rich, resounding quality tempered by wisdom and serenity.

“Please,” she said, thankful to fashion the words before he walked away, “formalities aren’t necessary.”

He returned to his full height and looked at her. Or at least didn’t turn away. Hard to interpret with his face veiled. _They were blue, weren_ _’t they?_ she thought.

The silence persisted and Ashe swallowed. “After everything we endured, you should know better than to forget my name.”

A subtle sound rolled through the armor. Did he chuckle? Or hum while deep in thought?

“I could never forget,” Basch said, his tone not changing once after all those years, “unless you wished it of me.”

Not another word as he left. They encountered each other once more before departure. Ashe fidgeted fingers along the seams of her dress; for all the diplomacy she possessed, she couldn’t bring herself to address Basch one more time.

She chuckled at that thought come sundown. _What is there to fear?_ she attempted to reason with herself. _He is no stranger to these political meetings and he_ _’s seen you before you rose into power. He is but an old friend. He deserves to be treated as such._

Ashe paused—an old friend. By no means a lie, yet it stung her heart. Was that how she wished to regard him? Did he feel the same about _her_? Uncertainty wrinkled her face. Such trivial matters were best forgotten when grander ordeals awaited her attention.

And still, despite her efforts, Basch surfaced in her thoughts. It was in the lulls of her day, when she awaited a tardy guest or a hot meal. Her eyes drifted and her mind filled the gaps. Memories visited her like ghosts, sometimes replaying events out of sequence. What if the others slept an extra hour while she and Basch talked in those lazy mornings? What if they had saved Noah and freed Basch from his self-imposed oath? What if she took his word and withheld the blow to his cheek?

What if she convinced him to stay when it was all over?

Even if he was her trusted officer, even if her command sent him elsewhere, even if duty separated them, at least they could have their talks. She craved to speak with an intellectual equal without restraint. Advisers regarded her with caution and hushed words, simultaneously revering and coddling her. Basch didn’t. Not back then. For all his talk about loyalty and sworn vows, he still treated her like….

_An old friend?_ Ashe giggled. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps it was nothing more than that. She didn’t _need_ to be something distinguished, but what they shared… no word existed for that bond. It was like a cup of milk tea marked with cinnamon and allspice before dawn. It was like a smoldering fire at midnight, refusing to die out. It was like a worn pair of slippers, a beloved blanket, a favorite melody once lost, now reemerging.

It was like home.

She loved her city and people. She swore to protect them no matter the circumstances. The thriving streets amidst a desert was where she belonged, yet she didn’t feel at home until a foreign Judge grace her halls.

Ashe restrained the desire to ask of Basch in her letters to Larsa. It burned in her fingertips until she sealed the parchment in wax and handed it to a courier. Miles and months separated them until their next visit. Ashe counted the days and rehearsed an imaginary conversation. She refused to be silent again.

 

* * *

 

A deep blue hue saturated the world. Ashe groaned when an attendant nudged her awake as requested. Part of her damned this plan if only to roll over and sleep for another hour or two. And then what? Wait months until her next opportunity? Another groan and she pried herself away from the thick, warm layers and prepared for the day.

Heels clicked through the silent, barren hallway. Ashe scanned the area to ensure she was alone, save for the attendants rushing to complete morning tasks before daybreak. They paused only to greet her and Ashe smiled in kind. As she neared her destination, she held her breath and peeked into the alcove—no one stood in the balcony.

_Perfect,_ she thought and slipped out to perch along the banister.

A gentle breeze kissed her bare shoulders and reminded her to wrap up in the thick shawl she brought. White silk and furs enveloped her form, held together by golden threads and embellished with crystals and sapphires at the hems. All fit for a queen. Perhaps better suited for an evening dinner with honored guests than a leisurely morning sightseeing, but she treated it no different. He deserved something special, after all. They both did.

Ashe fixed her eyes to the horizon. A smattering of clouds drifted in the twilight skies. Several homes lit up from within. Nothing else stirred awake, all of Dalmasca content with its slumber. When had she last savored such silence? Back at their campsites, no doubt. She damned the worries plaguing her thoughts and preventing her from a restful night. If not for that, she would have missed the sunrises with him. Now she rose by her own free will. All that remained was to wait.

Metal shuffled in the distance. Ashe hitched her breath and froze. Anxious hands smoothed over the marble ledge. She chanted the memorized words in her head like a prayer. No gods would hear her, never mind help; only Ashe could harness her fate.

The heavy amble slowed to a pause. Licking her lips, Ashe glanced back. Basch stood in full plate armor and held her gaze.

“Your Majesty,” he said, “forgive me, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You are anything but an intrusion.”

“I can leave you be if—”

“There’s no need.” Ashe scooted over and beckoned to him. “You are welcome to join me, if it pleases you.”

He hesitated, but not for long. Gingerly approaching the offered space, Basch stood beside Ashe. “You have my gratitude, Your—”

“Please, Basch, there’s no need to address me as such.” She cracked a small smile. “I may be the Queen of Dalmasca, but you knew me well before my coronation.”

Another pause, then the tilt of his helmet. “I wish no disrespect towards you.”

“It would pain me more to never hear you say my name again.”

The wind drifted between. A chill tickled her skin, but Ashe refused to flinch. The sun would rise and warm her. By then, he’d already be gone. Like always.

“Very well,” he said in due time, nodding. “As you wish, Ashe.”

Her name on his tongue widened her smile. She rolled it in her mind in the quiet lull. For all the mornings crammed with constant chatter, she settled into the quiet ambiance without question. So long as he was there, what need was there for words?

“May I?”

Fluttering her eyes, she looked to Basch as he motioned to his helmet. “You may.”

Fingers curled beneath the metal to pry it from his head and settle it upon the banister. His golden locks were shorter, though long enough to comb a hand through. The scar remained as did that stern gaze permanently etched into his features. Ashe caught a glimpse of his eyes—they _were_ blue.

Basch softly sighed and returned his attention to the gradual sunrise. Ashe did the same. The skies warmed with pinks and oranges, bleeding past the horizon to embrace the world. Slivers of sunlight glistened off of Basch’s Judge Magister armor and Ashe’s jewels. She steadied her breaths, yet twitched her fingers.

“I miss this,” she found herself saying.

He hummed. “As do I,” he said as soft as the colored skyline.

She swore she imagined his answer. “I wish there was more time.”

“For what?”

“Everything and nothing.” Ashe chuckled. “Quite selfish of me, isn’t it?”

“I think not.”

“You don’t need to say things to please me.”

“I say it because I wish for you to be happy.” He paused. “My only regret is failing to find a way to do so.”

Ashe pivoted on her heels to face him. Basch lowered his gaze to his helmet.

“I made a promise.” He smoothed a hand over the face plate. “Guilt would suffocate me if I abandoned that now.”

Holding her breath, she rested her hand upon his. Metal and leather separated them, but she swore the heat of his skin pulsed through.

“I always admired your resolve,” she murmured. “I expect no less from you, Basch.”

His eyes flicked about. “We’re both bound by duty.”

“That we are.”

“And you are a kind, just queen.”

“Just as you are a noble Judge.”

Basch smirked as a snicker rolled through him. “Never thought I’d live to see the day where a Judge was noble.”

“Yet here we are—thanks to you.”

“It’s… not the path I wished to take.”

Ashe raised an eyebrow. “And which path, might I ask, would you rather take?”

“I’m not sure—about many things, let alone my own desires. What I do know is that I try and cherish these moments of stillness, where I don’t need to pretend to be someone I’m not. It reminds me that all the battles and hardships were worthwhile.” He gestured to the rising sun with his chin. “Times like this… I can’t help but appreciate it more than I ever have.”

“Is that why you enjoy this spot whenever you visit?”

He cracked a smile. “So you’ve noticed?” She replied with a smile of her own. “Perhaps.”

“It is quite lovely.”

“It is.”

The thoughts rattled in her head until she pieced them together. “I wish neither of us had to wear these masks.”

“How so?”

“Every decision I make is for the good of my people. I cannot blurt out whatever comes to mind, unless I wish to tempt a war or trade ban or something worse. I’ve held my tongue more often than I thought possible. These diplomatic battles… they make me long for a sword to wield and put an end to the drivel.”

“Spoken like a true queen.”

She tried not to roll her eyes. “I should not think such things.”

“I’d be more wary if such things never surfaced in your thoughts. You care, Ashe, deeper than anyone I’ve met. I respect that. I’m proud to say I trust the Queen of Dalmasca.”

“You think too highly of me.”

“I simply speak the truth.”

_You always have,_ she kept locked up within.

Her hand slipped away from his. The sun peeked past buildings to blind them. Even so, neither strayed from the balcony.

“Thank you,” Ashe spoke above a whisper.

Basch furrowed his brow. “For what?”

“For not once doubting me.”

He caught her drifting hand and she gasped. Ashe turned as Basch cradled her delicate fingers, closed his eyes, and dipped in to kiss her knuckles. Blush splashed her fair cheeks; the swelling heat the sun brought was not to blame. Soft lips grazed her skin and blue eyes opened to regard her with nothing but tender admiration.

“The day I doubt you,” he whispered into her, “is the day I die. I might don the guise of a Judge Magister Gabranth, but I will always be Basch fon Rosenburg. So long as you and Larsa live, I swear my fealty to you both.”

Fingers curled into his. Neither pried their sights from the other. Ashe prayed this was no dream her mind tricked her with.

No words existed to do justice to the sentiment that enveloped her. She longed to step into him, rest her head upon his shoulder, and watch Dalmasca rise and live. She longed for silence, for them to exist side-by-side without justifying the means. She longed to discard her crown for only a day if it meant to be an ordinary hume alongside Basch. No responsibilities—simply each other’s company.

But he was right. They had their duties and duty carried Basch back to the north while Ashe reigned from her throne. As he released her hand to don his helmet once more, Ashe already anticipated his next visit. Another sunrise to savor together.

Before he left the balcony, she drew in a breath. “I….”

Basch paused and looked back to Ashe.

She lowered her head. “I feel… whenever you’re here, I’m at peace. I wish you could stay, even for a while longer. I don’t wish to delay your departure, but—”

“If I could exist in two places at once,” Basch replied, his deep voice muffled within the helmet, “I would.”

A bittersweet smile surfaced. “If only.”

“Until next time.”

“Yes.” Ashe inhaled deep and exhaled with, “Thank you for keeping me company this morning, Basch.”

She swore he smiled beneath that mask. “The pleasure was all mine.”

When they gathered at the palace’s entrance for their farewells, Ashe thought of the balcony, the sunrise, and Basch’s gentle words. She caressed her knuckles where a phantom touch still teased her. An idea floated in her head.

Ashe approached Larsa before he boarded his airship bound for Archades. A young man flourished before her with long hair swept back into a low ponytail. Almost a spitting image of his late brother, though without the tyrannical tendencies.

“I must ask,” she said, clasping her hands at her torso, “if you would allow me to send two letters in our exchanges.”

Larsa cocked his head. “What for?”

She averted her gaze to settle upon Basch within the entranceway of the airship. Ivalice viewed him as the infamous Gabranth, but he was always Basch to her. Just as she was always Ashe to him.

“I would like to keep correspondence with the Judge Magister.”

Larsa’s chuckle, however, caught her off guard.

“And why,” he asked, “do you require _my_ permission, Your Majesty?” When the words caught in her throat, Larsa smiled and shook his head. “If that’s all it takes for you to stay in touch with him, then by all means.” Larsa closed the distance between them and lowered his voice. “He might not speak of you in my presence, but words aren’t always necessary. His eyes say enough.”

Ashe almost forgot to breathe. “And what do they say?”

Larsa grinned. “Perhaps you should ask him and find out.”

They bid each other farewell, the airship ascended, and silence filtered through the palace once more. Ashe returned to the throne room, though her thoughts strayed elsewhere. Halfway through a meeting with her advisers, she hid her smile beneath her hand. She recalled those blue eyes regarding her as if she were the sun itself.

And when the sun did vanish and night traveled in its wake, Ashe retrieved parchment to scribe his name—his _true_ name—and the words left unspoken from dawn.


End file.
